Tangerine Dream
by Ivy Leaves1
Summary: She was expelled because the staircases changed. He forgot her because the rumors died. Back again, a ghost-like reminder at the Yule Ball, he falls for her, but has no idea who she really is... Cinderella is back again... starring Lily and James....
1. Sweet Sixteen

Tangerine Dream 

Chapter 1: Sweet Sixteen

**Rowed a boat, she was all alone**

**Great Lake Michigan is so far from home**

**Somewhere in the distance a lone wolf is crying out for us again**

**But she's only sixteen**

**Clean pristine**

**Messed-up, dirty sixteen**

**Not like the clean pristine dancing queens**

**No one special, but she's sweet sixteen**

          Lily Evans was nearing her sixteenth birthday, but unlike some people, she was not looking forward to her birthday. She wasn't dreading it, but there was nothing to look forward to—only two people bothered to wish her a happy birthday, that was all. No one else even knew she existed. She was just another speck of dirt in the clear shine of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a little speck no one cared to remove, a little speck no one bothered with.

          But then… that's not the beginning…

Maybe… the story should start at the beginning…

*

          "Arabella Clara Dayton Figg, stop!" came the plaintive cry from Lily Evans as she ran towards the Great Hall to breakfast. Arabella Figg dashed after the redhead, a green snake wrapped around her right forearm.

          "He won't bite… much," Arabella responded, an evil twinkle in her eye.

          "And if he does, he'll bite _her _anyway," input Molly Richardson as Lily ground to a hesitant halt. "I mean, she's the closest person."

          "What?" Arabella had a look of pure horror on her face.

          "Just kidding," said Molly with a sweet smile. "It's a garden snake. It won't bite."

          Arabella sighed with relief, and Lily crowed her triumph.

          "Bella was scared!" she shrieked.

          "Was not," said Arabella fiercely. "I'm never scared."

          "Except just now… of a harmless_ garden snake." _

          "You were scared, too!"

          "But I'm not denying it… 'Fraid you're just a 'fraidy-cat, Bella," said Lily with a helpless shrug.

          "GET BACK HERE LILY ANNABELLE EVANS AND TAKE THAT BACK!" shrieked Arabella, and they continued their mad chase, Gregory the garden snake forgotten.

          "What was that all about?" Arthur Weasley asked Molly, coming up to the curvy redhead and slipping an arm around her waist.

          "No idea, Arthur. None at all."

*

          Arabella and Lily were completely out of breath when they sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, but they were laughing in gasps, choking on the words and their giggles.

          "You—"

          "Gregory—"

          "Scared!"

          And the giggles came back, full force.

          "I'm not going to ask," said Sirius Black firmly as he passed them. "Wait… does that snake bite?"

          It was just then when the owl dropped the letter onto Lily's empty plate.

*

          "Where's Miss Evans?" Professor McGonagall asked Arabella in Transfiguration, the first class for Lily and Arabella.

          "I don't know," answered Arabella truthfully. "She ran from the Hall when she got the letter."

          "The letter," repeated McGonagall. Arabella nodded dutifully.

          "The letter," she confirmed.

          "Oh, dear… I wonder… I shall ask Albus after class," decided McGonagall to herself. "Today's lesson will feature turning a rock into a comb. Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, please pay attention… you may need this lesson," she remarked, looking at their equally unruly and untidy black hair. A few small chuckles rung in the classroom. McGonagall allowed herself a small smile at the now-glaring Potter and Black and proceeded to pass out the rocks.

          She was just about to tell them the spell when Dumbledore burst in.

          "Minerva, are all of your students present?" he inquired urgently. McGonagall blinked at him.

          "Y—no. Lily Evans is not here… Miss Figg said that she got a letter at breakfast and ran from the Hall afterwards?" McGonagall's voice was inquisitive—Dumbledore probably knew what this letter was.

          "Oh dear, oh dear. A letter? I suppose she must have found out… Oh dear me. Dear, dear me."

          "What's wrong?" McGonagall asked impatiently. Dumbledore looked up.

          "Someone is on the eighth floor."

          "That's strictly forbidden!" exclaimed McGonagall. "Penalty is expulsion…" Dumbledore nodded somberly.

          "I know."

          "Mr. Longbottom," said McGonagall smoothly, regaining her senses, "watch the class. Try to get them to transfigure their rocks. The spell is _Incanto Stoneo._ I will join Professor Dumbledore."

          And the teachers swept out the door.

*

          Lily was, at that moment, crying. Stupid letter, it was all a stupid joke—except, it had the Ministry of Magic seal…

          They were not dead.

          They were not dead.

          They were alive, they were perfectly healthy, they were…

          Dead.

          A fresh wave of tears overcame her, and she cradled her own head in her hands—no one else would. No one had cared enough to come after her… maybe they thought she wanted to be alone.

_          I do want to be alone,_ she thought desperately._ I **do**_.

          But she didn't. She wanted someone to tell her that it was okay, her parents weren't dead, her life was going to go on as it always had.

          No one came.

          She waited, the tears pouring down her face, but still no one came. Shakily, she stood, wanting to go to class and afterwards find someone to comfort her. Somewhere, fuzzily, in the distance, she heard a door open and close.

          Footsteps.

_          Maybe someone cares, _she thought hopefully._ Arabella, or, or, or, someone… maybe._

          It wasn't Arabella.

          In fact, it wasn't even a student.

          Nor was it a person.

          It was a flash of bright color…

          The gypsy butterfly danced before her eyes, humming._ Love, and power, and downfall… I'm sorry, you'll be gone… but at least you will have loved. Aren't you glad you will have loved?_

**_            I'm going to die? Just like my family?  _**Lily shrieked, but she couldn't hear her voice, just her thoughts. She wasn't focused enough to realize that although gypsy butterflies excelled in divination, they rarely told the true prophecy.

          Yes, everyone does. Your time may be sooner, but by Merlin, you will have loved. Aren't you glad? Not everyone ends up loving before they die. You will have loved… so much…

**_            What do you mean?_**

_          No time, Merlin and Guinevere are approaching. So long, and be glad you will have loved…_

           The butterfly disappeared, and Lily looked around, confused. What on earth was that? What about the footsteps?

          Her last question was answered when Dumbledore and McGonagall came around the corner. Lily's eyes were staring straight ahead when they came, as she tried to work out Guinevere and Merlin and the butterfly's prophecy, and she was a sight to behold, her flaming red hair curling down to her elbows, her emerald eyes large and vibrant against her porcelain skin, lips parted slightly in awe.

          Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a look, one of their many, this one filled with awe. The girl was beautiful now, before she heard the crushing news, innocent and free, but troubles and sorrows hidden in her tear-filled eyes.

          "Miss Evans," said McGonagall gently, "would you be so kind as to explain why you are on the eighth floor?"

          The emerald eyes turned their way, and Lily's face turned white.

          "I'm not on the eighth floor," she said quietly…

          "Yes, dear, you are," said Dumbledore. "What did you see?"

          "Guinevere and Merlin and the butterfly… I'm going to die, Professors, I'm going to die young… at least I will have loved…" Her shock was still present.

          "You saw the butterfly?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "It spoke to you?"

          "It prophesized."

          "Oh no…"

          "Why is that so bad?"

          "The butterfly, it can… never mind, Lily. It's a long story, and you don't have lifetimes to spare."

          "How young will I die?"

          "I don't believe anytime soon…"

          "I'll graduate from Hogwarts, though, won't I?" inquired Lily anxiously. Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged another look.

          "Lily, the penalty for being on the eighth floor is expulsion…"

          A jewel of color sparkled in the air as it turned, bright wings spinning.

          At least you will have loved… 

_*_

And so Lily had been expelled from Hogwarts in spring of her first year. No one was told why, so they assumed she had done a dastardly deed, but she was soon forgotten—the rumors grew old after a while, and the members of the Potter gang, who had nicknamed themselves the Marauders, were thinking up new pranks every day.

          Lily had nowhere to stay, and after pleading with Professor Dumbledore that she simply couldn't go to a Muggle orphanage, she was allowed to stay on as Hagrid's assistant. Dumbledore was so kind to the expelled…

          Hagrid had a heart of gold, and Lily, whose sister had made her do all the chores, eventually got used to the lifestyle and Hagrid's food—although she was the one who cooked normally, for fear that Hagrid's rock cakes would kill someone. Her parents had not left her much money—once more, her sister had triumphed and gotten it all—but sister Petunia had given her Mother's old necklace, which Petunia had deemed too unfashionable to wear, and that was Lily's prize possession, which she wore at all times.

          And this was how Lily Evans grew up, and it brings us back to the beginning…

*

          "Hagrid, I'm taking Fang out. He just knocked over the lamp."

          "So 'at's what the crash was," said Hagrid as he came in the door. "Fang," he reprimanded the dog lightly, "don't do that again." Hagrid grabbed his umbrella and pointed it at the lamp. Lily watched the pieces fly together and up to the table where it had stood before.

          "Thanks, Hagrid."

          "Nothing, Lily. It's me lamp and me floor anyway." Hagrid reached up and got a pot out from the cupboard. "I'm goin' to make some rock cakes, a' right?"

          "Oh, Hagrid, no…" said Lily, distressed. "My jaw got glued together last time that happened."

          "Yeh're right," Hagrid sighed, but then he brightened. "But what if I add more water or summat?"

          "I'll make dinner tonight, okay?"

          "Okay. Yeh're a better cook anyway," sighed Hagrid. "But remembah to make extra. We've got company tonigh'."

          "Company?" Lily blanched. "Who? Dumbledore?"

          "Nah, a coupla students are coming."

          "What year?" Lily inquired anxiously, clutching her necklace.

          "Ehm, sixth, I think."

          "Oh no, Hagrid!" cried Lily. "That's the year I would have been in if I hadn't gotten expelled!"

          "Yeh, so? People from your year have com' 'ere before fer dinnah. Twice, in fact, I think."

          "But that was in the spring!" explained Lily. "I didn't eat dinner with you that night, I ate early and did my chores while they were here! I can't do that because I can't do my winter chores outside in the night, and I can't leave them until tomorrow!"

          "Nah, what I don't understan' is why you don' wan' them ter see you."

          "Because they'll start talking to the rest of the school—'Oh, you know that one girl who got expelled? She's a servant, and she's really ugly.' Then they start making fun of me—those who aren't already," Lily finished morosely.

          "Yeh're not a servan', an' yeh're not ugly, Lily. Make extra dinnah, an' you'll no' be hidin' in th' woods when they show up."

          "But Hagrid!"

          But Hagrid's mind was made up, and he was not going to relent.

*

          "Hullo," said Hagrid, swinging open the door to the hut upon the knock.

          "Hi, Hagrid," chorused the three young men on the doorstep.

          "Come on in," Hagrid offered courteously. The trio obeyed and entered the hut, watching Hagrid lean out the door and look around.

          "What're you looking for?" inquired the tallest one.

          "Did yeh three see a girl out there?"

          "No…"

          "Okay, then. She lied." Hagrid shook his head. "Oh, well. I guess she foun' summat more importan' ter do." Hagrid shook his head once more and changed the subject. "Remus, how's yer mum?"

          "She's good… Dating a guy named Jack," the tallest one said. He took after his mother Rowena, actually, with light brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes.

          "Muggle?"

          "Yeah, Muggle. Wizards don't have names like Jack Johnson," said Remus despondently.

          "Is he nice?"

          "I haven't met him yet," Remus answered, eyes focused on the ground. "Maybe at winter break. She seems to like him, so…" Remus shrugged. "I guess he's okay."

          "I bet yeh'll like him. Does he know abou—Sirius Black, get yer hands offa that lamp." Hagrid glared at the young man with shaggy black hair that insisted on falling into his equally black eyes, which were trying very hard to look innocent. Sirius Black had problems keeping his hands off things that were supposed to be left alone. "It's already been broken once tahday."

          "You broke it?" inquired Sirius, inspecting it. "It doesn't look broken."

          Hagrid turned red under his beard. "I fixed it," he muttered. "Don' tell anyone, though. Yeh know I'm not s'posed ter do magic, terchnicalley speakin'."

          "Okay, Hagrid," Sirius agreed, sitting down in a chair. The others followed suit, and once seated, Hagrid picked up his knitting.

          "So," he said conversationally, "how's school? Yeh've got semesteh finals coming up soon, right?"

          "Don't remind us!" said Sirius, loudly and melodramatically. "I don't want to know what'll be on the Charms test…"

          "I'm more worried about Potions," inferred Remus.

          "James, what d' yeh think?" asked Hagrid. "Yeh're bein' quiet tonight."

          "He broke up with Hannah Cranner, and she's spreading rumors about him right now," explained Sirius. James turned his eyes to Hagrid and managed a weak smile.

          "She won't be able to ruin my rep much, will she?" he questioned.

          "Tha' depends, James—d' yeh have a good rep?"

          This brought smiles to all of their faces.

          "Well…"

          At this precise moment, Fang and Lily fell through the door. Well, Lily tripped over Fang's foot and fell, and Fang tripped over Lily and fell on top of her, but they both fell through the door.

          "Hullo. Nice o' yeh ter join us," Hagrid said, amused.

          "Hagrid, I'm sorry!" wailed Lily. "Fang just set off running around the Quidditch field and he wouldn't stop, and you know how big he is, and I couldn't catch him, and when I finally did he dragged me along after him, and I know I promised but won't you forgive me, please?"

          All four men stared at her. Lily stood up self-consciously.

          "I'll make dinner," she said matter-of-factly, heading for the stove. All four suppressed grins at her story and disheveled appearance.

          "Who, Hagrid, is that?" James inquired in a low voice, with a raised eyebrow.

          "That's Lily. She's meh assistan'."

          "Since when?" Sirius asked suspiciously. Hagrid looked around like a deer caught in the headlights, and Remus saw Lily glaring at Hagrid with vibrant green eyes.

          "Since a lon' time ago," covered Hagrid, concentrating on his knitting, which resembled a long lime-green, orange, and mustard-colored scarf with electric-blue and red fringe on the end. It was, in the minds of all those present except Hagrid, who was making it and therefore thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment, and Fang, who was colorblind, the ugliest thing they had seen in a long, long while.

          "Those are interesting colors," said Remus politely. Hagrid nodded enthusiastically.

          "Glad yeh think so… I don' think Lily agrees, though." Hagrid tilted his head towards Lily, who looked at him innocently from underneath the soot-streaked hair falling into her face.

          "Why, Hagrid, I think it's simply _lovely_," she protested. Hagrid chuckled.

          "Good girl, Lily."

          "How old are you?" Sirius inquired.

          "Me?" Lily seemed to have forgotten that the Marauders were there.

          "Yes, you."

          "I'll, I'll be sixteen in a bit," she stammered, twisting her hair around her finger. "Oh, dodge it all!" Lily had caught sight of the smoke twisting from the stove, and kicked the stove hard. The stove, in response, gave a somewhat miffed grunt and stopped smoking.

          "Dinner will be ready eventually," she announced, oblivious to the fact that Remus was staring hard at her, as if he recognized her, and equally oblivious to the other fact that James was looking at her with confused interest.

*

          "Tha' wasn't so bad, was it?" Hagrid asked Lily the next morning. She grunted.

          "Remus recognized me… he had this knowing look in his eyes while I was putting the food out."

          "Remus 'as been through a lot, Lily. He knows a lot."

          "He's only sixteen or so," argued Lily. "How much has he been through?"

          "How much 'ave yeh been through, Lily? An' yeh're still fifteen."

          Her eyes grew saddened as she washed the dish. "You're right. I'm sorry."

          "Nothin' ter be sorry for," Hagrid said, business-like. "Yeh just forgot, an' tha' migh' be a good thing."

          "I don't want to forget them, Hagrid," Lily argued. "I just want them to be here again. I want to have the life I did for eleven years." Her eyes widened as she suddenly realized what she had said, and she continued hurriedly, "Not that you haven't been kind or anything—I mean, you've been so tolerant—and I mean, you've been ever so nice—but I mean—"

          "I'm no' insulted," Hagrid assured her, a smile pulling at his face. "I know what yeh mean."

          "I think I'll go help the house elves up at the castle cook lunch or breakfast or something," Lily said absently, wiping her hands on her apron and stacking the last dish on the pile.

          "Yeh don't need to work all th' time, Lily, yeh know."

          "I don't have anything else to do anyway," said Lily, shrugging.

          "Yer birthday's in a few weeks," Hagrid noted, looking at the large calendar hanging on the wall and jabbing it on a Friday. "Th' twenty-third o' December."

          "Yes." Lily came over to look at the calendar, and poked the Saturday after her birthday. "'Great Hall decorating'," she read. "What's that?"

          "Yule Ball that night," grunted Hagrid. "Bit stupid, really, considerin' th' Yule Ball's a part o' th' Triwizard Tournament an' _tha's_ certainly no' happenin', but I s'pose th' students wanted it," sighed Hagrid. "Yeh can help decorate it if yeh wan'—I'm sure yeh could hang ornaments on th' trees or summat, being as yeh're smaller tha' th' rest of us."

          "No thank you, Hagrid," Lily sighed remorsefully. "I'm sure the teachers can do it magically much better, and evergreens like to poke me."

          "All right, yer choice," conceded Hagrid. "What d' yeh wan' fer yer birthday?"

          "Nothing, there's no need," Lily assured him.

          "I'm gettin' yeh summat anyway, yeh know."

          "Really, Hagrid, there's no need, leave it be. Is there anything you want me to do or should I go help the house elves?" Even to her own ears, she sounded miserable.

          "What's wrong, Lily?"

          "Nothing…" Lily headed towards the door, taking her hat—green and purple and knitted especially for her by Hagrid, who for once had not used bright pink and mustard yellow—off the shelf by the door and tugging it on. "Hagrid?" she inquired as she swung open the door and began to step out into the snow.

          "Yep?"

          "D'you think I'll ever get to go to a ball?"

          "Someday, Lily, I'm sure," Hagrid assured her. She sighed, forced a smile to show she was thankful for his obvious lies, and moved out the door, into the whiteness of winter.

*

          "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Lily, happy birthday to me," sang Lily softly, looking out the window at the moonlight reflecting off the ice-covered lake. She felt a cold wind blow, and the cold glass of the window made her shiver as her fingers stretched upon it.

          Hagrid's clock gave twelve high-pitched, small dings and was silent.

          "Happy sweet sixteen, Lily," Lily said to herself. "Four years here. How long are you going to stay?"

          Seventeen she would be legally old enough as a witch to live on her own. She wouldn't be a witch, though, she'd be a Muggle. A Muggle who knew about witchcraft and wizardry. That was all. They had broken her wand when she had gotten expelled, and she wasn't a witch without a wand.

          _Stop it, Lily,_ she said to herself. _It's not your fault…_

          It was her fault.

          She had killed her parents.

          Never mind that she wasn't even present when they had died, she had killed her parents. Petunia had said so when their parents died:

          _"It's all your fault, you know. All your fault. They would never have died if it wasn't for you," Petunia said, calmly._

_          "But I wasn't even there!" cried Lily._

_          "You still killed them, you wench. Killed them! Your witchcraft—you know witchcraft killed them! You know it! Why won't you admit it? Your kind killed them, and they would never have killed them if it wasn't for you!"_

          True enough that her parents had died in a car crash, but Petunia did not believe what she didn't want to…

          "No, Lily, you will not do this to yourself. You worked hard at making those memories go away, and even if all they did was fade slightly, you are not bringing them back. You are not bringing them back," she told herself fiercely. Breathe, Lily. In, out, in, out…

          "Happy birthday," she told herself, and lay down on the mattress on the loft that was more a corner shelf than anything. "Happy birthday," she repeated as she drifted off to sleep, winding the blanket tightly around her.

*

          "Prongs!" yelled Sirius, shaking James' body. James sat upright and looked around blearily.

          "Where's the fire?" he asked, grabbing for his glasses, which were sitting on the nightstand.

          "I heard you broke up with Emma Gardner," Sirius accused him. James stared at him.

          "Sirius, where did you hear this at midnight?"

          "Oh, I mean, you know, I was talking…" Sirius turned red under James' unconvinced stare. "Okay, so I went down to the common room, and Arabella was there, and we started talking—okay," he admitted, "making out, but that's irrelevant—and you know Emma is obviously in her dorm, so she's like, 'You know, Em's really sad about James breaking up with her, maybe you should get him to apologize', and after a couple of, ahem, minutes…"

          "Spare me the details," groaned James. "Yes, I broke up with Emma."

          "But she's like Arabella's best friend, almost!" shrieked Sirius. "You might have ruined all chances I had with Arabella!"

          "Yeah." James rolled his eyes. "Right." His words were pure sarcasm.

          "Well, maybe not, I guess, but never mind that. Who are you going with to the Yule Ball now, then?"

          "I dunno." James shrugged. "No one, I guess."

          "You can't go stag!" screamed Sirius.

          "Shut up, Padfoot," hissed James. "You want McGonagall up here?"

          "But you can't go stag!" Sirius wailed. "Well, okay, you are a stag, technically, but that's not the point—"

          "There are a lot of things that are irrelevant here, Sirius," James said dryly.

          "But James…"  
          "Sirius, leave me alone. I had my reasons for breaking up with Emma, and there's no need to yell at me."

          And with that, James took off his glasses, rolled over, and went to sleep.

*

"Hagrid… Hagrid…" Lily said, tapping her foot impatiently. "Hagrid…" She gave up. "RUBEUS GRINGLE HAGRID!" she shouted into his ear. Hagrid gave a snuffle and a grunt, and leaped up.

"Where's th' pea soup?" he yelled, still mostly asleep. Lily stifled a laugh.

"No pea soup, Hagrid, sorry. We've got eggs and toast today."

"Wha'?" Hagrid seemed to wake up and looked around. "Eh, sorry, Lily. I was, ah, no' fully awak'."

          "I noticed," Lily said dryly, but then she smiled sunnily. "Well, hurry up, breakfast is getting cold!" She bounded over to the counter and picked up two green plates with, as promised, eggs and toast on them. "Here you go, Hagrid," she said, sliding one in front of Hagrid's place at the table and setting another down for herself. "Breakfast!"

          Hagrid eyed Lily suspiciously. "Yeh're ter much o' a mornin' person, Lily. Much ter much o' a mornin' person."

          "I know, I am, aren't I? There was new snow last night, I'll shovel the path after breakfast. And then I can shovel around—"

          "WAIT A DANG-DARN MINUTE!" roared Hagrid, remembering something suddenly. Lily's eyes flew open and she jumped out of her seat. "IT'S YER BIRTHDAY!"

          "Yes," Lily acknowledged. "Happy sixteenth birthday to me. Anyway, as I was saying, I'll shovel around—"

          "_First _of all," started Hagrid, "yeh are no' workin' on yer birthday."

          "I have all my other birthdays."

          "Tha' was because yeh foun' a way aroun' me, young lady," said Hagrid. "I've expilicitally tol' yeh no workin' on birthdays, but yeh don't obey…" Hagrid shook his head. "But never min' tha'. I've got a present for yeh!"

          "Oh, Hagrid, I really can't, I mean, it's kind enough of you to let me stay with you these last four years, you really—"

          "I'll be offended if yeh don't take it, Lily," said Hagrid calmly. Lily gulped. She disliked to offend people… "Now, just lemme fin' it…"

          He reached under his bed and searched with his hand for a couple of minutes, then triumphantly pulled out her gift, wrapped in mustard-yellow wrapping paper with electric-pink dots all over it and a lime-green ribbon.

          "Yep, here it is," Hagrid informed her cheerfully, handing it over with a great flourish.

          Lily gingerly took it and untied the ribbon, slowly and methodically pulling off the unattractive wrapping paper. She hesitated a moment before pulling off the lid of the box, and upon pulling it off, she gasped audibly.

          "Hagrid, I can't, I can't…"

          "Yeh can, yeh can," Hagrid reassured her. "Yeh deserve it, fer puttin' up with all th' chores an' jobs an' work an' me…"

          "I… I…" Lily began, tears filling her eyes. "I better wash my hands before I touch it," she said, sniffling and running towards the door of the hut.

          Her hands were pink and freezing when she finally deigned them clean enough to touch her present, and she lifted the dress from the box with awe.

          The silky fabric fell in shimmering white-ivory folds, as pure as a swan, and as elegant as well. It was sleeveless and simple, with laces that laced from her lower back up to the low, square-cut back neckline and a matching square-cut neckline in the front. It was by far the most gorgeous thing she had ever owned, and most likely one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

          "Oh,_ Hagrid," _Lily cried. "It's so_ beautiful."_

          "I picked it ou' myself," Hagrid said proudly. "A bit o' trouble gettin' yer size, but then I got 'elp."

          "Hagrid, I love it, and thank you ever so much, but you don't recall—I have nowhere to wear a dress like this," Lily said in dismay. Hagrid smiled.

          "Well, see, I was thinkin' tha' yeh could go ter th' ball tomorrow nigh', but if yeh don' wan' ter…"

          Lily gave a small squeak, dropped the dress in the box, and hugged Hagrid. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," she wailed into his shirt.

          "Yer welcome, yer welcome, yer welcome," Hagrid replied with an amused look on his face. "Wait, there's another presen'." He took a box, smaller than the dress' box, off the top of a cabinet and handed it to her. This present was nicely wrapped in dark blue paper with small silver stars and no ribbon, leading Lily to the correct conclusion that this was not at all from Hagrid.

          "Who's it from?" Lily inquired. "Who'd be sending me a present?"

          "Dumbledore," Hagrid said gruffly. Lily's lips formed an 'O' and her eyes widened.

          "But—but—but—I'm not—"

          "I think 'e foun' 'em, foun' no use fer 'em, an' decided yeh'd need 'em," Hagrid said simply. Lily looked at the gift in shock, then proceeded to pull off the wrapping paper.

          The box contained slippers. Glass slippers, to be exact.

          "Merlin, this is a dream, right?" Lily asked Hagrid as she held a shimmering crystal shoe up to the light. "I wonder if they fit… but oh, Hagrid, I can't wear them, they'll break!"

          "'Honestly, Lily," sighed Hagrid, "did yeh forget tha' those are from a wizard?"

          "Oh, right…" Lily inspected the shoe, embarrassed, then set it down on the ground. "Well, let's see if it fits, shall we?" She gently eased her foot into it, still frightened of it breaking, like a joke.

          "Perfectly," she breathed, sliding her other foot into the other shoe. "Hagrid, this has been absolutely the best birthday ever!"

**Tried to row her boat on the empty sea**

**Got nowhere, no thanks to me**

**Glass bottle in blue, we're floating away**

**Like wings of a dove, we can't be bothered to stay**

**She's not clean pristine like the other sixteen**

**This girl is no dancing queen**

**Dollar store you can buy her for a dime**

**She doesn't care so neither do I…**

**Oh no, here we go, follow-the-leader**

**Fairy tales with unicorns and dust covers**

**This is the only true Cinderella Story…**

_DISCLAIMER: Sirius Black, James Potter, Lily Evans, Rubeus Hagrid, Fang, Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Professor Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts, Arthur Weasley, Molly Richardson (in a way… she's the future Mrs. Weasley), Hagrid's hut, and anyone/anything else you happen to recognize belong to JK Rowling. _

_Gregory the garden snake and Emma Gardner belong to me, unless I somehow unconsciously stole those names from somewhere else. _

_The plot can belong to Your Worst Nightmare if it's too much like her story (Ever After: A Cinderella Story), for which I am sincerely sorry if it IS too much like her story, since I just wanted to write a Cinderella story, and hers inspired me, and if she wants me to take it down I will because I don't want to be accused of plagiarizing anything… it will be different than her story AND different from the movie Ever After in the end, okay? Please don't get mad at me… and do read Your Worst Nightmare's story, it's the BEST._

_I have no affiliation whatsoever with JK Rowling or Scholastic or Your Worst Nightmare or anyone, and I do not lay claim to anything except this actual story itself and the song in it, and if you want to steal Gregory or Emma, fine, but no plagiarizing/claiming this story as yours because it's not, okay? Ditto with the song. Thanks, you guys!_

_Thanks for reading… love y'all, platonically…_

_---IVY_


	2. An Angel's Transformation

Tangerine Dream Chapter 2: An Angel's Transformation 

****

**Wings and ivory, golden rings**

**She's dreaming of such wonderful things**

**Died a while ago, everyone forgot**

**But she's back, she's back again**

**And an angel's undergone a transformation**

**Now she's sweet, serene, and grape crush sixteen**

**You're falling all over her again**

**Just because it's an angel's transformation**

**Black velveteen and emerald green**

**Ivory colored tangible dreams**

**An angel's transformation…**

          "I still can't believe you're going stag," Sirius said to James. "It's so painful, a Marauder without a date… people are going to think you couldn't get a date at all!"

          "They can think what they want," James said breezily. "Now I can dance with everyone."

          "You mean guys with dates aren't allowed to?" Sirius asked worriedly. "Because I was kind of hoping to get a few dances with Bella…"

          "I'm sure Kimmy won't mind, provided you get Max Grindler to dance with her. I've seen her eying him_ quite _a few times," said Remus conspiratorially.

          "That's true!" Sirius exclaimed, brightening rapidly. "Oh, good. I even have blackmail on Max, I think…"

          "Happy endings. Max doesn't have a date, either."

          "I love my life," sighed Sirius blissfully. He ran a hand through his black hair and pulled on the sleeve of his crystal-gray robes impatiently. "Ready, you guys?"

          "Of course," said Remus dryly. "We were waiting for you, you know—"

          "Good," Sirius interrupted, ignoring Remus' comment. "Pothead, hurry up."

          "Don't call me Pothead!" insisted James. "Are we going or not?"

*

          "Hagrid, this is a Muggle dress," Lily suddenly realized. "It's not a Muggle ball."

          "I was talkin' ter Dumbledore, an' he said yeh'd fit righ' in. Apparently a lo' of th' students dress like Muggles. Besides, everyone'll be ter busy starin' at yeh ter care whet'er yeh're wearin' Muggle clothes or no'."

          "Thank you, Hagrid," Lily said quietly, blushing to the roots of her equally red hair. She turned to the mirror. "I do look okay, don't I?"

          Lily looked more than "okay". By far. The ivory dress clung lightly to her curves, showing off skin roughly a shade darker than the fabric, and contrasting her vibrant hair and eyes. Her dark red hair was let loose in its normal mane of loose curls, and her brilliant green eyes were wide in her face. She was void of makeup or hair styling, but she managed to look like an angel all the same, succeeding so well, in fact, that if she had had wings and a halo, few would notice the difference.

          Hagrid noticed this and snorted. Lily turned to him, hurt.

          "Well, Hagrid, you're supposed to say 'yes, Lily, you look fantastic', even if I do look like crap," Lily informed him.

          "Lily, yeh look so positivutely gorgeous tha' any guy who doesn't fall heel unde' head is blin'," Hagrid said bluntly. "Now ge' yer arse over there or yeh'll be late."

          "Oh, but Hagrid, isn't fashionably late the_ only _way to go?" Lily inquired lightly with a dazzling smile, before she grabbed the matching, sheer, ivory shawl and ran out into the night, traipsing down the path she had shoveled to the castle late that afternoon, the same path that was already covered in a light snow.

*

          "Sirius, this school has too many Emma's," James hissed into his friend's ear as Emma Donaldson, the third Emma (after Emma Cratzoniel, a fourth year, and Emma Gardner, his previous fifth-year girlfriend) he had danced with that night, dragged him out onto the dance floor. Emma Donaldson was a blonde with annoyingly shiny and perfect hair, a pointy nose, washed-out blue eyes, and a sparkly washed-out blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly but did absolutely nothing for her figure.

          "Hey, you decided to come single," Sirius replied with a sadistic smile. "It's your fault."

          "I know!" wailed James. "I know!"

          It was about a minute later than he noticed the redhead, and, having finally found an excuse to get away from Emma Donaldson (who he had begun to think of as Emma Washyson), he ventured off in that general direction with a "I'm kinda thirsty" and "no, you don't have to get my drink for me" to Emma.

          It had taken a while for people to catch sight of the petite girl, but once they noticed, they didn't stop noticing. She had some sort of glow surrounding her, like shy awe… like an angel.

          "Hi—"

          "I'm—"

          "So—"

          "Y'know—"

          "Would you like to dance?"

          She turned towards the oasis in a world of monosyllables and smiled a brilliant smile that made all the admirers surrounding her trip over their own feet.

          "I'd love to," she said.

          All her admirers sighed an envious sigh and glared at James Potter, who was once more stealing the girl, as he had done ever since first year. No chance for the normal people when the dashingly handsome Quidditch star and prefect who had excellent grades was on the case.

          But neither she nor James was bothering with these opinions as they whirled out onto the dance floor.

          "I'm James Potter," James informed her. She smiled again. God, she had a nice smile.

          "I know."

          "Oh, you watched the last Quidditch game?"

          "No," she said, still smiling.

          "You're a prefect?"

          "No."

          "Then how do you know who I am?"

_          "Everyone _knows who you are," she told him. "Don't they?"

          "I suppose. So, now that we've decided who I am, who are you?" he inquired. Her smile vanished.

          "Why do you want to know?"

          "I've never seen you before."

          "I'm not particularly an extrovert."

          "Oh, but it's great fun!"

          "I'm sure," she said. A mysterious smile.

          James had never had this much of an easygoing, lighthearted conversation with a girl. It had always been "do you love me?" or "I love you, Jamesie" or something. All of his girlfriends had been oblivious to the fact that he hated nicknames—well, except Arabella Figg in fourth year, but she called no one except Sirius ("Siri", "Syre", "Doggy"… the list went on and on) nicknames, so that really didn't count. It had always been Jamesie or Jimmy or—worst of all—Jamie Jim. He shuddered at that thought.

          "Something wrong?" she questioned. "You shuddered."

          "Nothing… went off on a tangent. So, what is your name?"

          "My name," she repeated.

          "Yes, please."

          "Is there a particular reason for wanting my name?"

          She accented R's and N's. It made her words sound like music, delightful music.

          "Do you want me to call you 'Hey, you' all night?"

          "Maybe that's my name."

          James laughed, and all the girls stood in envy of the girl who had made the famous James Potter laugh. Laugh! Really…

          "I don't think so," he said.

          "You're right, it's not."

          "Do you want me to guess?"

          "Why don't you?"

          "Diane."

          "No."

          "Rachel."

          "No."

          "Clydestrophy?"

          "Not even_ close."_

          "Give me a hint?"

          "Why ever would I do that?"

          "So I can guess!"

          "You're doing a wonderful job."

          "Lily," flew out of his mouth suddenly as he recalled Hagrid's assistant. What color was her hair? Her eyes? For the life of him, he couldn't recall. She had been covered in dirt and soot and he hadn't paid that much attention…

          She paled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

          "Your name is Lily!" James said triumphantly. She smiled.

          "My name… my name is…" She searched her mind rapidly for a name even close to hers. "Lydie Evanston."

          "Lydie." James sounded that out. "I like that name."

          "Thank you."

          "It's not English, is it?"

          "It's French. Lydia in English."

          "Lydie," mused James again. "Beautiful name."

          "Thank you. A second time."

          "What house are you in?"

          The song ended, and the angel pulled away.

          "Dance with me again?" he asked.

          "Why would you want to dance with little old me?"

          "I don't have anyone else to dance with," he reminded her.

          "Am I a last resort, then?" Her green eyes showed her amusement. "I think I better dance with someone else. No fair double dipping, James."

          His mouth opened slightly with amazement at that remark. No one,_ no one _had ever turned down a second dance with James Potter… and certainly not with "No fair double dipping."

          "I'll see you later, then," James decided.

          "You may. Farewell."

*

_          What the hell was that about, Lily? _Lily asked herself._ No fair double dipping? He thinks you're an idiot now, Lily… oh wait, you are one—you came to this ball!_

          Lily was debating whether she should leave, stay, go sit sullenly in a corner, dance, dance with James, talk, or hang out at the refreshments table when once more, the choir of monosyllables began.

          "Would—"

          "You—"

          "Could—"

          "Dance—"

          "With me?" 

          One voice finished the others off, and Lily turned with a weak smile.

          "No, I think I'm going to get a drink or something," she said.

          "Would—"

          "You—"

          "Could—"

          "Get a drink for you?"

          This time it was a different voice that finished them off, but it sounded exactly like the other time. Lily rubbed her head.

          "No, it's okay. Thanks anyway, though."

          One by one, the admirers drifted off, put out.

          "Lily Evans?" exclaimed someone breathlessly behind her. Lily's complexion went chalk-white as she turned.

          "My name—my name's not Lily Evans," she protested uncertainly. The girl, who had large brown eyes and chocolate-brown ringlets, shook her head with a mischievous smile.

          "Of course it is, Lily."

          "Bella…?" Lily asked, looking for resemblances to people she used to know.

          "Of course!" Arabella flung her arms around Lily. "I missed you, Lily—nobody to help me play pranks. 'Cept the Marauders, 'course, but I don't think that counts 'cause Siren and I are kinda involved right now. Kinda… key word. Plus, they can't think up half as good tricks as we could. Why are you here, Lily?"

          Lily's green eyes moved to the ground. "I wanted to go to a ball… it was a birthday present. I'm Hagrid's assistant, you know."

          "Really." Arabella looked hard at Lily with those large brown depths and shook her head. "I never knew… I'll come visit you, really, I will. I really did miss you… you were my best friend, after all."

          "I missed you, too, Bella… all my friends—no one remembers me. Just you. I thought I'd get away with it, but… maybe not. I'm going as Lydie Evanston. Call me Lydie, if you ever see me, okay? Because the truth would come out if you didn't… and James would treat me horribly…"

          "James, eh?" Arabella smiled a huge smile. "I saw you dancing with him! Not bad, though I think Siren is cuter… 'course, I'm biased. Go for him, won't you? But be prepared for a short romance—James' has never had a girlfriend longer than a month. At least, not that Hogwarts knows about."

          "I'm not going for James," said Lily, turning a deep red to match her hair. "I'm a servant, Bella, in case you didn't notice why I don't hang out with you anymore."

          "You're not a servant, you're a grounds-keeping assistant. And what does that have to do with anything?"

          "Everything, Bella," said Lily softly. "Everything."

          Remus Lupin moved out of the shadows behind them, hazel eyes perplexed as he tried to solve the mystery that wouldn't take him long to solve at all…

*

          "I washed my finger," someone whispered into her ear as the song ended and she parted from her present dancing partner.

          "Hm?"

          "No double dipping, but I washed my finger."

          Turning around, Lily was met with the addictive, sparkling dark eyes of one Mr. James Potter.

          "You want to dance," she said, a smile slowly creeping across her face. "But didn't you hear? With me, it doesn't matter if you wash your fingers or not, because hopefully you used a spoon in the first place."

          "I see. You're too high-ranking for mere fingers."

          "Oh no," said Lily, pretending to be shocked. "Never. Just not_ your _fingers."

          "I'm so hurt. Won't you dance with me?"

          "Can you make it sound any more appealing?"

          "Whilst thou, thy fair maiden of this ball, honor me with one dance to prove myself—and my fingers—worthy of her?"

          "Well, if you really did wash your fingers…"

          And they were off.

          "You dance very well, you know," James informed her.

          "I took ballroom dancing for two years… very horrible two years they were," said Lily, grimacing. "But I guess they helped?"

          "Yes," agreed James with a smile. "They did."

          "The only problems will come when they decide there's been enough waltzes," said Lily, and seemingly on cue, the band that had just finished setting up—Alohomora—grabbed the mic and introduced themselves and their song, and proceeded to slam out music on magical electric guitars and drums.

          "Never been more wide awake/ Never been more fast asleep/ Never been rich/ Never been poor/ I used to care/ I don't care anymore…" Sultry voices filled the room.

          "See? Told you. I don't know how to dance to this."

          "You know how to ballroom dance…"

          "Yes."

          "And any others?"

          "No—well, I can salsa dance." Lily winced. "But, no, we aren't going to do that."

          "Why not?" James asked brightly. "I can salsa. Come on, I'll even lead."

          "Oh, original, the guy leading," muttered Lily. "We're going to be humiliated."

          "Nah… not much, anyway." James took Lily's right hand. "Come on. What've you got to lose?"

          "My dignity?" But Lily sighed and put her left hand on his shoulder, feeling oddly pleased when his arm went under hers to support her upper back.

          "Ready, and go."

          "Alohomora and Alakazam/ Down in the dungeons in Azakaban/ Sooner or later/ Sooner or later…" sang Alohomora, and Lily shook her head.

          "This is completely not salsa dancing music."

          "Get into it, Lydie."

          Pain seared through her as she remembered that these people weren't accepting Lily, the servant, they were accepting Lydie, the student.

          "I'm going now," she muttered.

          "No, you aren't. Because I haven't finished double dipping…" James' dark eyes were twinkling merrily.

          "Fine, one song…" Step to the left, step to the right… and spin…

          "So what house are you in?" he asked.

          "Oh…" Oh no. She hadn't been anticipating this question. What was she supposed to say? He would sooner or later find out she wasn't in the house she said she was in.

          "Well?"

          "I have friends in my house." That was technically true, if you could count Hagrid's hut as a technical house and Hagrid and Fang as technical friends. Ouch, too many technical's.

          "That's good, so you're not an introvert."

          "Oh, I never said I wasn't an introvert."

          "So you're an extrovert?"

          "I never said that, either."

          "Then what are you?"

          "Why don't you decide?" Lily asked him with a smile.

          "Exintrovert," deigned James. Lily nodded agreement.

          "Precisely."

          "So what house are you in?" he tried again.

          "Isn't it more fun not knowing?"

          "No, not really."

          "Arabella Figg's one of my very good friends, you know."

          "So you're in Gryffindor?"

          "Do you oppose inter-house friendships?"

          "Depends."

          "On what?"

          "What houses they are."

          "What houses are you opposed to?"

          "I'm a Gryffindor, I don't like Slytherins much…"

          "That wasn't answering my question, you know. And what if I'm a Slytherin?"

          "If you're a Slytherin, the Sorting Hat was drunk when it sorted you."

          "I'd believe that."

          "So you're a Slytherin?"

          "I never said that."

          "Are you a Slytherin?"

          "Who wants to know?" Lily shot back, her eyes a shade darker than usual and shining.

          "I do," replied James, spinning her.

          "Oh, that's nice. I'm not a Slytherin."

          "Thank you, Merlin," James mouthed, causing Lily to laugh. Oh, that sweet laugh…

          "So," Lily began, stepping forward into the seductive steps. She had learned to salsa in fourth grade and had continued the lessons into fifth grade, as was her pattern—dancing lessons were allotted two years, music three, anything else, one.

          "So…?"

          "I was trying to get you to come up with something to talk about," she said. "Not coming up with something myself."

          "Sorry. How old are you?"

          "Sixteen… as of yesterday."

          "Happy belated birthday. So you're in sixth year?"

          "Can't you figure it out?"

          "You're being rude."

          "I'm dreadfully sorry." That, at least, was not sarcastic.

          "Nice to meet you, Dreadfully Sorry." And that brought a smile.

          "You as well, James Potter."

          The song ended, an unusually long song, but that was no matter.

          "One more dance? I'll use a different finger."

          Lily grabbed his hand and inspected his fingers.

          "Nope, too dirty."

          "Spoilsport."

          "I am not a spoilsport!"

          "You're right… you're not."

          "Thank you."

          "So will you dance with me?"

          "Fine…" Lily sighed. "But not the four-eight step this time, okay?"

          "Deal."

          "And you lead."

          "Of course, Lydie. Why wouldn't I?" James tried to look innocent. Lily squinted her eyes at him.

          "On second thought, maybe not—"

          "Oh, come on." James pulled her into the dance, slamming her body against his. "You're dying to dance with me."

          "You'd better stop before the professors get mad at us," Lily said uncomfortably. James grinned agreement and loosened his grip on her.

          "One, two, three…"

          Like it or not, James Potter was completely fascinated by this resurrected angel whom he could not name…

**All her dreams, right down the toilet**

**Grape crush, new rug, sixteen, mother of seven**

**She's new and unused and so far, unabused**

**But someone's getting back at her**

**Gorgeous in ivory silk**

**She's gorgeous in ivory silk**

**To forget is only to remember**

**And we elephants never forget**

**We never forget**

**The resurrected**

**We never forget**

**An angel's transformation**

**An unlikely angel's transformation**

**Transformation…**

Wow, I am really, really good at writing sucky fics, aren't I? Oh well… Dangit, I dunno what's going to happen next chapter. Maybe Lily's alter egos will start to catch up to her… I dunno. Whatever. Review, please?

And by the way… I'm looking for a fic that I want to read but can't find… It's L/J, involves summer holidays, a dancing club with Narcissa and Lucius, and kissing on a Quidditch field and at the dancing club, I think. And maybe a scene in a bathroom. I can't remember. If you even** think **you know what I'm talking about, please tell me, as I can't find the fic and would really like to read it… HEY, would you look at that… I found it. Yes, I am an idiot, yes, I am aware of this. Sorry. (The story is Unexpected Circumstances by ~*~13~*~… I don't know yet if it's got all the things I mentioned, I probably mixed up stories… oh well. Whatever.) Thanks, you guys. Later!

DISCLAIMER: 

          All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, with the exception of Lily's fan club and the many Emma's. 

          Since I'm changing the plot a lot, I don't really think that it's related much to Worst Nightmare's "Ever After: A Cinderella Story" except for the fact that Lily is Hagrid's assistant. Oh well. Definitely read "Ever After: A Cinderella Story" (and see the movie!) by Your Worst Nightmare, and **I** like Squin's "The Goddess Diaries" a lot as well. But whatever. That's not a disclaimer.

          ANYWAY, only Lily's fan club, the Emma's, and the song belong to me.

          Don't sue… please… I claim no affiliation with J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Your Worst Nightmare, or anyone else… just with myself, although sometimes I'm not too sure about that either…

          PLEASE review? PLEASE? PLEASE?


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